Lost in Burgess
by Plainsong30
Summary: "A Clockwork Orange" was a story that always intrigued Sofia, along with its infamous anti-hero, Alex DeLarge. But when Sofia takes a wrong turn and ends up in futuristic Britain, it doesn't take her long to tumble into a series of chaotic events that involve Alex himself.
1. Alex DeLarge

**Hi hi hi there! Thanks for giving this story a shot! Alex DeLarge definitely makes an appearance in this chapter, so just stay on your toes! - Plainsong30**

I've been lying with my face buried in my pillow for nearly the past six hours, trying to sleep, willing myself to sleep, _wanting_ to sleep, but just never quite making it. There's a thunderstorm brewing outside, real loud with bright lightning that lights up the room for a split second every once and a while. I'm listening to it and how the rain kind of hits the windows when my phone starts vibrating on my nightstand, and though I'm not sleeping, I almost don't want to answer. I sit up and glance over at it anyways, only to see that the picture of my close friend, Mick, lights up the screen. I check the time before I answer – 4:22am.

"Howdy stranger," I greet, wondering if I'm angry or actually glad that he's called. Something to help distract me from trying to sleep, maybe.

"Hey… uh… Sofia? Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Nah, kid. I can't sleep."

"Ah, bummer… you wanna come, like… pick me up? Maybe? Please?" he says. His voice has got this distinct tone to it, and I can tell right away that he's been out and about in the night, partying like the little devil he is.

"Magic word first, pretty boy," I say, even though I'm already crawling out of bed, holding my phone to my shoulder as I slip a pair of jeans on and my favorite, oversized college sweatshirt.

"Pretty please?" he slurs into the phone, sounding like he's about ready to fall asleep.

"Where are you?"

"It's that lake house we drove past that one time… with the lion statues," he tells me.

I can't help but roll my eyes. "All right, kid, I'll be there in ten. Stay awake, okie dokie?"

"You bet your sweet ass." The phone clicks as he hangs up, and I yank on my Chucks and tie my hair into a knot on my head before grabbing the keys. On my way out of my room, a huge clap of thunder goes off, and I jump suddenly, causing my hip to ram into my dresser, and I can't help but yelp out loud as all the perfumes and jewelry sitting atop it rattles. At the same time, one of the books laying on top falls off, too. Rubbing my raw hip, I bend down to pick up the book, seeing it's my frayed copy of Anthony Burgess's _A Clockwork Orange_. A brilliant, shocking piece of work, one of my favorites actually, and I can't help but picture that piercing gaze of Alex DeLarge as he was in the film. It's when I'm staring at the cover that the lights suddenly flash and go out from the last crack of thunder.

"Shit!"

I'm just a tad bit spooked, because I've never been a fan of the dark.

I kick open the front door, forgetting how it's pouring rain outside. I yank the hood of my sweatshirt up and dash for my 2003 Chevrolet Tracker. It takes a few punches to finally get it started – starting it up has always been a pain in the ass ever since I can remember – and turn the headlights on, trying to remember where the hell that one lake house with the lion statues is exactly. So I call Mick back on the phone, and he slurs a bit more and burps a bit more, and finally gives me some actual directions as to what street it's on, because I honestly cannot remember a house with lion statues, for God's sake.

I finally find the place, and there Mick is sitting on the curb looking very drunk indeed. He's in his DC shoes and skinny jeans and a Guns 'n Roses t-shirt, the hood of his sweatshirt up and his black hair growing just a little passed his ears. He greets me by waving with a bottle of UV in his hand, his long-board in the other. He's soaked to the bone, and I'm more or less concerned when he gets into the car, shivering like crazy.

"Christ, kid, what's the matter with you? Why didn't you just wait inside like a normal person?" I ask, pulling away from the curb and taking us home.

"Party was over. Everybody got kicked out," he says, groping for his seatbelt and sliding it on ever so slowly. "Sofia, guess what. Guess who was at the party."

"I don't know. Jack Nicholson?"

"No. No, Lorraine was there," he says.

I almost want to smack him upside the head for saying that. "Lorraine? What? No. You told me you weren't going to speak to Lorraine ever again."

"What? Nah, man. When did I say that?"

"Uh… when you found out she was sleeping with another guy behind your back, I'm pretty sure," is all I can say.

"What? Nah…"

"Yeah."

"Not ah."

I'm rolling my eyes, my head leaning on one hand while the other grips the steering wheel. The rain is coming down very hard at this point, practically causing wave like blurs across the windshield.

"Kid, you gotta pull yourself together, you gotta get over that skank. It's bad news, man. I would say to stay away."

"No, it's not bad news!" he says, leaning his face into his hands. "She's gorgeous."

"Yeah, and she's a skank-whore."

"Nooo…"

"Come on, Mick."

I'm looking over at him, pitying him all the while, wondering if his drinking binges are really out of the desire for a good time like he says, or maybe if he does it just to get out of the unhappy moods I know he can be in sometimes.

"I just wanna go home," he whispers.

I'm still staring at him, feeling so bad that it almost kills me, and that's when I look back towards the road, only to suddenly see the street lights flicker and go completely out. I'm left to a darkened road, my headlights only leading the way, the rain coming down like crazy. So all I think is maybe it's just another power outage. But then the oddest thing happens – my headlights flash all of a sudden, and then they go out completely, too. The only light comes from the dashboard, and I kind of freak out for a second as I plow into complete darkness. Then suddenly the headlights flash back on, and a white figure is standing there in the middle of the street, a mere ten feet in front of me, their arms spread out, as if asking for me to crash into them.

That's when things start to go a little bit crazy. With one arm I reach out and kind of grab Mick by his arm and nearly squeeze it to death. My other hand is gripping the steering wheel so tight that I think I may have lost circulation, and my foot slams into the brake so hard that the two of us nearly plow our brains right through the dashboard.

"Oh… my _God_! Sofia, what in the hell are you _doing_?!" Mick is wailing, clutching his forehead, about ready to start bawling his eyes out it seems.

"Oh shit… whoa… oh my God! Do you see that stupid-ass standing out there in the middle of the street?!" I squeal, pointing in front of us. The windshield wipers are having a helluva time wiping the water away, and every time the glass clears for a half-second, I start to get this funny feeling in my stomach as the figure begins to become very familiar to me. A guy, maybe in his teens, in a white dress shirt, trousers, suspenders, a – oh, God – codpiece, and what looks to be black combat boots. And there's a very familiar looking bowler hat atop his head, and he's holding what looks to be a long, black cane which he drapes over his shoulders and leans his hands on. And he's standing there, staring, this deadly look in his eyes that I've seen before so many times… but the thing is, it's usually at home on the TV. Maybe this is just a dream, a bizarre hybrid dream from my insomnia suffering brain.

"You shitting me?" I say out loud.

"You talking to me?" Mick asks.

"Of course I am! You dumb, drunk shit! Who else would I be talking to?!"

"Easy, easy. Good God."

"You know that guy?" I ask. Mick looks up, squints his eyes, which are already pretty squinty as it is - suggesting some of the other things he'd been up to earlier - and just smiles all pretty like.

"It's Alex DeLarge!" he kind of guffaws.

My throat tightens just a bit when he says that. "C'mon, quit joking. You're drunk. And stoned. He's a friend of yours, right?" I ask. During our little bicker, the rain magically begins to lighten, the windshield becomes quite a bit clearer, and the figure in all white is slowly pacing towards the Tracker, spinning his cane about as he does it, coming round to my side of the car. My heart is pounding like crazy in my ribcage and my hands are shaking. I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming, I gotta be dreaming.

"Dude, he looks just like him," Mick comments. "Honestly, he looks _just_ like him, doesn't he?"

This guy is coming closer and closer to my side of the car, and I believe I'm about ready to have a heart attack when he's outside the window, knocking on the glass.

"Mick! Mick!" is all I can say, grabbing for him and shaking him to death. "Oh shit, oh God, the guy's by my window! He's knocking on the glass! What do I do? I'm gonna drive away."

"No, don't! It's Alex DeLarge!"

I stare at Mick and give him the You're-Insane look. "Even if it _was_ really him – which it _isn't_ – it would _not_ make the situation any better!" I holler.

"Crack the window."

"What?"

"Just do it. See what he wants."

Heart racing and about ready to pee my pants, for some reason or other, I obey the drunk and high Mick - who obviously is not in the best place to be making the decisions around here - and crack the window. I clear my throat and croak out a nice soft "Hello."

"Hi hi hi there, my little sister," this voice says. My tongue goes slack in my mouth as I freeze where I sit, realizing that I'm staring into a pair of piercing blue eyes. I know that voice. And those eyes… and that's when I see it, right on his right eye: a distinct, false eyelash.

There's no way… absolutely no way in hell…

"Are… are you…" is all I can say.

"Emmya thou asks of, my lovely?" he says, a charming smile on his face. He removes his bowler hat and bows for me, very gentleman like. "Alex DeLarge, at your service."

And that's when I sort of scream at the top of my lungs and step on the accelerator.

**Sooo... how was that?! I definitely think this story will be a comedy, obviously there will be some serious points to it as well, but I think I may stay on the funny side. Not quite sure about romance, considering how complicated of a character Alex DeLarge would be for that type of thing, but maybe I'll find a way. Let me know if I should continue or if you have any suggestions! Thanks! - Plainsong30**


	2. Windows Down

"I fucking knew it!" Mick pipes as I'm cruising down the street. My eyes are dead-set on my rearview mirror, watching as that Alex DeLarge imposter creep, or whatever, gets smaller and smaller in the mirror. "Shit, it was him!" Mick's just about having some kind of epiphany, turning in his seat and peering back at that figure in white. "Why'd you leave? Why'd you leave him behind?!"

"The guy is crazy!" I say. "It… it wasn't Alex DeLarge. He's not real!"

"But… did you not see him?" Mick asks me. "It was really-"

That's when another scream sort of bursts out of my mouth as three more figures in white appear in the road, my foot ramming into the brake once again. Only this time I kind of lose control of the car, and instead of coming to a nice clean stop, I start hydroplaning instead. And oh, God, after that mini heart attack from earlier, I just about had a real one then and there, the car going all haywire on me and doing a one-eighty. Once we finally stop moving, I realize I have one hand on Mick's arm again, squeezing him like crazy, my other hand on the steering wheel. I can make out the whiteness of my knuckles in the dark.

"Jesus… whoooooa!" is all Mick can say, his voice very smooth and flowy. "That was cray-cray, Sofia."

I peer into the rearview mirror again and see those other three figures in white - who are now behind us after my bit of hydroplaning - approaching ever so slowly, but in a very determined way. I turn around to get a better look at them. One of them is quite large and beefy looking, the other two about average size, and the first thing that pops into my head are Alex's three "droogs", as he likes to call them. Or, as he likes to call them in the _film_, and in the _book_. Which are _fictional_.

"Check it. It's Dim, Georgie, and Pete," says Mick, following my gaze.

All I can do is turn towards him and glare. "You're not helping!" I belt out.

That's when a loud whistle cuts through the air, and our heads both snap towards the front of the car. "Alex" is in front of us again, pacing towards us once more. I can see his breath floating in the air in a wave of fog, a little smirk on his face as he comes closer, his cane draped over his shoulders again.

"Who knows, maybe they're nice," says Mick.

"Nice?!" I squeak. "Kid, you act like you've never seen 'A Clockwork Orange' before."

"I have," he says. "And I've read the book, too."

"Yes… and if you may recall, Alex and his three droogs are most definitely not the friendliest or droogiest – or whatever you call it – people on the planet. Okay?"

"Kid, they aren't real, it's not really them," Mick explains to me. He's still totally out of it. He's sobered up a little bit from the booze – I think the hydroplaning helped with that. But he still looked stoned out of his mind.

"Oh shit," is all I can whisper to myself. That's when I see from my side view mirror one of the other three guys in white leaning against the side of my car, a second one on the other side, and then the third one, the big one who is supposedly Dim, if I have to give them names, is actually climbing onto the back bender, causing the car to heave slightly.

I'm watching "Alex" come closer towards the car, this time approaching the passenger's side.

"Watch and learn, baby," says Mick, a sudden confidence boost erupting from him. I'm frozen in my seat, my eyes bugging out of my head as Mick rolls his window down all the way, "Alex" approaching all calm and collected.

And when I see him for the second time, there's no doubt about it. It's Alex DeLarge, exactly as he was in the film. Smile, false eyelash, piercing blue eyes… everything.

"Our lovely introductory from earlier was not, shall we say, satisfactory, yes?" Alex says. I just about faint at his words, which are very similar to lines from the film and book. I've got a hand on my heart as I stare at him in pain, only because I love and fear him all at the same time.

"Nah, man," says Mick, very calm and stoned like. "Sorry, you just kind of scared my friend is all. But she's all right." Mick turns to me. "Right?"

I just kind of nod and swallow, telling myself to trust Mick. He's my best friend. "Right."

Alex smiles this grand, cheeky smile. "Right right right!" he says. "How art thou dva lewdies? Thou must be off somewhere important, to be escorted in thy lovely, grand automobile, as it were?"

I can't help but let out a hoot. "You like my car?" is all I can say, feeling my lips twitch into the biggest of smiles.

"Oh, thy dearest, like? Like is not a slovo which thou can describe for an engine such as this. Doest thou rasoodock, if I were to ask thou brand and make?"

Just hearing his voice and the way he talked in his Nadsat slang drove me crazy with excitement. "It's a 2003 Chevrolet Tracker," I say, almost Valley-girl like as a result from his utmost flattery, not quite sure how to take this bizarre, unbelievable turn of events. "Not too, uh… fancy or anything, but, it's a car."

"2003!" Alex pipes, this look of disbelief on his face. "A malenky bit too much of the ole moloko plus, love? Come, come… 2003?"

"Uh…" is all I can say. That's when I hear all this laughter from outside of the car, and it's coming from the other three guys with Alex. Or Dim, Georgie, and Pete I assume. It hit me for maybe a split second to think that the four droogs from _A Clockwork Orange_ were standing outside my car, _impressed_ with my car, and right there in front of me in flesh and blood… a dream. I have to be dreaming. This is a result of insomnia. I've gone completely crazy.

"Moloko plus? Oh yeah, that's that milk with like crack added to it, right?" Mick asks. "Damn, you guys drink that every night?"

"That's right, brother," Alex says, a friendly smile on his face as he glances back towards Mick. "Thou has never had a pleet down at the old Korova?"

"The Korova Milkbar?" Mick says. "_The_ Korova Milkbar?" I cannot tell if Mick is actually falling for all this, or if he's an incredible actor.

"Is there any other?" comes a voice from around the car. Alex looks over and exchanges a laugh with whomever it is that has spoken.

"Don't mind thy droogies. That is Pete, Georgie, and Dim," he introduces. I nearly jump out of my seat when I see Georgie beside my window. Dim still hangs on the back of the car, causing it to rock back and forth. Pete has joined Alex's side at Mick's window.

"I'm Mick," Mick introduces, "and this is my bed bud, Sofia."

"Droogies, eh?"

Mick just nods. "That's right."

"And Sofia has neither been to the lovely Korova?" Alex asks, glancing over at me.

Milk with drugs added to it? "Nope, can't say that I have," I answer.

"Welly welly welly well!" Alex bursts. "Doest thou know what this means?"

"Party at the milkbar, baby!" Mick hoots.

That's when I kind of want to grab Mick and shake him a bit and ask him if we've both gone crazy or something, because it is quite obvious that going to the Korova Milkbar with Alex DeLarge and his droogs is simply impossible, and in fact quite crazy.

"Would thou be kind enough to offer a ride for thy droogs and I?" Alex asks.

I stare at Alex then, only three words floating through my brain. _OhmyGod. OhmyGod. OhmyGod._

"You trying to tell me there's a Korova Milkbar around here?" is all I can say, very sarcastically. Because there isn't. In fact, I believe the only one that exists is the one that's in the film and book. Which. Are. Not. Real.

"Why of course, my little sister," says Alex. "Shall we be off then?"

"You bet your sweet ass!" Mick just hoots. That's when Mick climbs out of the Tracker and pulls the front seat forward so that Alex, Georgie, Dim, and Pete can all attempt to squeeze into the back of my cracker-box, two-door car. All the while I sit there in the driver's seat, fearing for my sanity, my life, and my car. First I ask myself whether I've gone crazy, then if I'll be safe with psychotic Alex DeLarge and his droogs in my backseat, and if my car will in fact hold six people when it can only hold four.

But for some reason, my arms seem to have become robotic, obedient objects, because I have the car in drive, and we are off. Only the road is nothing like it was before – the lake house with the lion statues from before is gone. We are not in a familiar part of town. In fact, I don't recognize anything around us. We are in a village area or something. It's as if… when the lightning flashed and the lights went out, we – _poof!_ – ended up here. With Alex DeLarge.

"Windows dooown, windows doooooown!" Mick belts, leaning over me and pressing all the automatic buttons to roll the windows down. And then he's messing with the radio, trying to find a decent signal, only none of the channels we normally listen to are coming in.

For a moment I meet eyes with Alex in my rearview mirror, and the gaze he has upon me is almost hypnotic, if not incredibly discomforting and terrifying. I turn my eyes back to the road ahead, remembering all those graphic and shocking scenes I'd witnessed and read in the film and book.

I look back towards the road while Mick begins to randomly roll the radio dial over all the different frequencies. Asignal finally comes in from a channel that doesn't normally give off a signal, and then this song that I've definitely heard before is playing, and all I can do is look over at Mick and exchange a terrified, fascinated, and confused glance with him.

_I want to marry a lighthouse keeper_

_And keep him company_

_I want to marry a lighthouse keeper_

_And live by the side of the sea!_

We are all singing, everybody in that car. I have my hand out the window, pumping my fist. I'm feeling a bizarre wash of disbelief, yet I want to enjoy everything around me anyways, no matter how strange the events of the night are turning.

And what a chorus we were, singing in tune like some vocal group. I'm stepping hard on that accelerator, my speed increasing faster and faster. I glance away from the speedometer for only a moment, and when I look back, I'm nearing eighty miles-per-hour, the wind practically engulfing the inside of the car. Mick is hooting and I'm hollering, and the four droogies in the back are yelling out words I can't understand, and then, the worst thing ever occurs.

Blue and red flashing lights appear in my rearview mirror. My heart kind of drops into the pit of my stomach as I turn around and try to make out the lights behind all the heads in the backseat.

"Shit!" is all I can say. I reach for the stereo and turn the music down. "Shit shit shit!"

"The poe-poe," is all Mick can say, sinking into his seat and hiding his face into his hands.

It was during all the singing and excitement that I lost track of my speed. And I'm nowhere near a freeway or anything like that, so to be going eighty down a residential street, in a place that I don't recognize, is deep-shit indeed.

I start to slow down and eventually pull over to the side of the road. Deep-shit. Not only do I have a kid who is as high as a kite in the passenger seat, but four other kids squished in the back of a seat that can only hold two (there's no middle seat belt). I almost want to cry, wondering if this is a dream. This has to be a dream. Maybe if I try to will myself to wake up my insomnia suffering brain…

"I'm going to jail…" I say in defeat. I watch in my rearview mirror as the four droogies continue to laugh and guffaw. "Man, oh man."

"Don't fret, my lovely," says Alex. "Nothing thou lovely droogie Alex cannot handle."

I look over at Mick in a questioning way and turn back towards Alex, only to see him pull at his cane and reveal a gleaming, sharp knife.

Though two seconds early we'd been howling to the moon and having what seems to have felt like a normal night out, I realize that I've forgotten what kind of place I've ended up in. And when I see Alex clutching that knife, this gleeful look in his eyes that sends shivers down my spine, I grasp that I also forget the kind of psychotic, merciless, ruthless character I will be dealing with. And that's when I become afraid.

**Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed earlier on! I'm so happy to hear what you thought! Sorry if this chapter was not quite as exciting, but I promise you that it gets better! Hang in there! Let me know what you think so far! - Plainsong30**


	3. We're in It

"Dost thou not rasoodock to move thyself, brother, in order to allow thy droogies out?"

It's really hard to translate what Alex is saying sometimes while sitting there, dreading to see a cop come up beside my window. Mick seems to understand perfectly, and I realize what Alex is asking when Mick climbs out of his seat, pulling it forward so that Alex and the rest of the gang can all squeeze out.

"Uh… is that a good idea?" I ask, seeing a police officer walking towards the car.

My question is answered in the worst of ways when I hear the cop go, "Remain in your car, please!"

Mick gets back in and slams the door shut while the other guys kind of surround the car, their attention focused on the cop.

"Doest thou viddy a problem, brother, sir?" I hear Alex ask. I turn around in my seat and peek through the back windshield. Through the blue and red flashing lights of the cop car, I can see the silhouette of Alex as he approaches the cop, a fog of steamy breath enveloping around his face. The cop doesn't look too happy about it, pulling out what looks to be one of those thick sticks that I know are used for beating.

"Mick, this is really weird," I say to him. Mick's attention is focused on the scene outside. "Mick, look at me!"

He turns back to me. I'm not sure if he's as scared or as weirded out as I am, but I hope to God that maybe he's got a clear head by this point. My question is answered, unfortunately, when Mick just smiles all happy like at me.

"Do you even have any idea what's going on?" I ask him.

"Yeah, baby. We're hanging out with Alex, Pete, Georgie, and Dim," Mick says to me, all calm and collected and not really affected by what he's just said.

"Yes… and does anything about that statement sound slightly… strange to you?" I ask.

Mick just smiles back at me and shakes his head. "It's magic, Sofia. I mean, what else is it? We'd have to be seriously crazy in order to see Alex DeLarge standing before us, right?"

"Yeah, did it ever occur to you that maybe we _are_ crazy?"

"Well, I mean… it's happening to both of us, right?" he says to me. He sort of throws the whole situation aside with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Come come come!" a voice cries. Both of our heads snap to peer through the back windshield to the scene behind us. The lights are still flashing blindingly - an alarming, humiliating spotlight it feels like - and now we can make out all of the droogs' silhouettes, along with that single, outnumbered cop.

"We are innocent, brother, sir. Just a few innocent nadsats having a horrorshow nochy out, as it were. What dost thou have against us?"

"Not following the speed limit, I'm afraid," the officer answers. You can hear a slight edge in his tone. Alex and his friends are definitely making him uneasy. "I suggest you all get back into the car, before-"

"A threat, I slooshy?" I hear Alex answer. I'm starting to get nervous. "What's a millicent doing on his oddy knocky, trying to threaten a group of young, nadsat malchicks? Very unwise, brother, sir."

"Mick…" I whisper. He doesn't answer me. My eyes are glued to the back of Alex's head. And that's when Alex turns ever so slightly and glances over at Mick and I in the car. For a moment he's frozen like that, as if waiting for our attention or other, and then he turns forward and suddenly lashes out, his cane around his body like a baseball bat as he begins to beat the policeman, first in the shoulder, then in his side, and slowly the policeman collapses towards the ground as the rest of the group all suddenly join in.

My heart is about to rip a hole through my chest from beating so fast, and I turn forward, shove the car into drive and take off. The squeal of my tires sort of brings me back to earth as I drive into the dark, the scent of burnt rubber floating through the open windows. I peer into the rearview mirror all the while, watching the beating of the police officer continue, the image getting smaller and smaller as I drive farther and farther away.

"Not good," I say. "Oh, God, so not good. Since when do they beat up cops? I swear that beating up cops was not something they usually did."

"Maybe they were trying to make a good first impression," says Mick. I look at him only to see him staring at me with this large smile on his face.

"What?"

"Because you're so dang cute, Sofia," he says, reaching over and pinching my cheek. "They probably thought you were a real cutie, a real cute American girl."

"Shut up!" I say, giggling as I swat his hand away. "That's a terrible thing to say."

"I'm just saying. They don't usually beat up cops, but this time, they wanted to impress, you know?" slurs Mick.

I can feel my cheeks burning a guilty red, and I'm glad that Mick can't see them in the dark. "Should we have helped? I was so scared… should we have helped that cop? Oh, God."

"Too late now."

"What's happening? How did we get here? Where are we even?"

"We're in futuristic Britain," says Mick.

I look over at him, confused and scared and about ready to go crazy. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you get it, kid?" he says. "We're in 'A Clockwork Orange'! We're in it! The film! Or whatever! That alternate dimension!"

I'm biting on my lip as I try to focus on the road. "Alternate dimension… what?"

"It makes perfect sense," he says. "We're in the story. We're in the world where Alex and everybody else exist. Does this look familiar to you?" He's pointing out the window to all the trees and what appear to be dark, open fields in the distance. We seem to be out in the country, one that I did not recognize though.

"It shouldn't," says Mick, "because we're nowhere near home. We're in Britain. The United Kingdom. Fucking Europe! Maybe a few things look familiar, but that's only because you've seen it before in the film, right?"

I think my head might explode. "How are you not freaking out about this like I am?" I ask him. "Isn't this even remotely weird to you? How are you coping so well? This is, like, a fucking nightmare or something!"

"Nobody has time to freak out," Mick slurs. "Just take it as it is. We're here for some reason or another. Just take it as it is, Sofia."

"It just… doesn't make sense!"

"Since when is stuff suppose to make sense?"

I'm silent as I continue driving, biting my lip and trying to read the street signs that pass by. If Mick is right about what he said, then there isn't really anywhere for us to go. Where were we to go?

I grope for my phone in the cup holder and yank it out, dialing the familiar contact called HOME. Only as soon as I hit dial and listen, the signal breaks with one of those annoying: "We're sorry, the number you dialed cannot be reached. Please check the number and dial again. This is a recording."

"Oh, my _God_," I moan, dialing again and again, then going to the pin-pad myself and dialing my home phone, my brother's number, my parents' numbers, anything, anything… but each time I do, the same recorded voice keeps coming up. "This is a recording" and yadda-yadda. "It's not working!"

"Because we aren't home, Sofia," Mick tells me, yawning. "It's not gonna work. I tried to tell you."

"Why are you so calm about this?" I ask him.

He turns towards me and smiles this unforgettable, lazy like smile. "You see me, baby? I'm funky fine right now. I don't gotta worry about anything."

"You son of a bitch," I say under my breath, shaking my head as I remember the weed. I grip the steering wheel, trying to figure out what we need to do, what happens next. "We need to get to a phone, okay?" I say. "Maybe I can… try calling my parents, make one of those international calls or something?"

"Sofia…" says Mick. "It won't work. They… don't exist in this world. Don't you get it?"

"I gotta try," is all I can say. "Just… let's find a store or something. There's gotta be like a drugstore or something around here with a phone at least."

Mick doesn't answer me again. I get the feeling that he's a tad bit frustrated, as am I.

We seem to be driving back into town after a while. Sterile looking buildings appear, milky white moonlight soon breaking through the clouds after the storm from early clears out. Shops look closed or desolate, or just plain sketchy at that. I can't seem to find anywhere to use a phone until I finally stop at what looks to be an abandoned theater, or perhaps an abandoned casino, from the looks of the posters that lay frayed and torn against the brick foyer – pictures of cards and poker chips, drinks, and young looking people smoking and looking quite glamorous.

"We gotta start somewhere," I say to Mick.

"Why here? This looks like the last place you could find a phone," he says.

"Well, it doesn't look as sketchy as those other places!" I say, getting annoyed with his attitude and how he isn't helping at all. "Besides, there's no one around. It's worth a shot, right?"

I get out of the car without hearing an answer from Mick, and I'm relieved to hear him climb out too as I start towards the building. A few lights appear to be on, but other than that, it's deserted. I round the building to a side door and find it open, pushing its creaking frame and taking a peek inside. I enter a barren hallway and look down either way to darkened corners. A sudden squeal escapes my mouth when a girl, out of nowhere, dives past me and out into the night.

"Shit!" I cry, being shoved against the wall by her aggressiveness. I was able to see for a half-second that tears stained her face.

"What's wrong with her?" Mick asks, looking after the girl as she disappears down the street.

"Jesus, how should I know?"

"Yeah, I don't know, Sofia, maybe we shouldn't-"

"C'mon, you chicken shit." I grab him by the arm and drag him in with me.

I take a left down that dark hallway, pulling my cell phone out and using the light to see. There's cobwebs and debris all over. Maybe this isn't the best place to be looking for a working phone.

"Nice idea, Sofia," says Mick sarcastically, seeming to read my mind.

"You weren't giving any bright ideas, asshole," I snarl, continuing my way down the hall, wanting to prove him wrong by finding a phone. "I saw lights on earlier. That means there's electricity, so maybe they have a phone cord running through here, too."

My shoes kick bottles and other broken glass, and the floor kind of slants downwards and makes a turn around a corner. Floorboards creak under me as I see light ahead and walk out onto what seems to be a large, brightly lit stage. I put my phone away, not really needing the light anymore and look up to see beautiful artwork on the ceiling. The place is in ruins it seems – junk lies everywhere and it needs a good cleaning. I start across the stage and kick at more abandoned objects, avoiding mouse droppings and trying to make my way across. A soiled looking mattress lies nearby. I look over to see Mick hop off the stage towards where there should be seating or whatnot, but it's completely empty. A large spotlight focuses warily on me, the rest of the theater being completely dark.

While I study some broken backdrops, I suddenly hear coughing and wheezing and look over at Mick, only to see him smoking a joint.

"Are you kidding me?" I say. "Really?"

"What?" he says. "You haven't seen me freaking out lately. This stuff is good for you." I try to understand what he means, but brush the thought aside and continue on my way. I head backstage to find more junk and props and run my fingers over a cracked wooden chair, and what looks to be one of those freaky looking dolls with the blinking eyes. I break away from the doll when I hear more coughing from around the stage curtain.

"Mick, goddamnit, will you stop?" I say. I approach the curtain and wheel around it. "It's not help-"

"Evening, little sister."

I freeze where I stand when I nearly knock heads with a familiar, nasty looking figure. He's got disheveled locks of dark hair and what looks to be a police hat on his head, fastened with goggles. His leer reveals rotten teeth, and there's a scent on him that positively reeks. As I take in his features, my heart drops to my stomach as I realize it's Billyboy.

"Thou cannot govoreet? Something wrong with ole yahzick?" he says. He's stepping closer towards me, and suddenly the gruesome scene from the film when we first meet Billyboy appears in my mind. I recognize the stage as I look over it again, see that soiled mattress, and I realize that the girl who shoved past Mick and I earlier was the girl that should've been here with Billyboy and his gang. Only opening that door must've given her a way out, and now here I was…

"Mick!" I suddenly cry, stepping away from Billyboy quite quickly. "MICK!"

"Who's that?" Billyboy asks, following me. "Mickey you skazat? Your little malchick droogie, is he? Why, thou is down thataways, quite comfortable thou is."

I look towards the direction that Billyboy's finger points and see Mick, held down by two brutal looking thugs. One of them grabs Mick by his hair and yanks his head upward, only to show that he's been gagged and beaten.

"Oh God…" My throat is swelling up and my heart is beating a mile a minute. I can feel my hands shaking as I continue to back up and ram into what feels like a table behind me, my hands touching all the objects that lay atop it.

"Lovely lovely thou art," says Billyboy. He's coming closer, and three more thugs are also approaching from behind him.

"Keep the fuck away from me," I snarl, surprised by how vicious I actually sound, when inside I'm so scared, so terrified.

"Naughty naughty slovos you govoreet, my lovely devotchka," Billyboy says. My hands are groping for something, anything. That's when I grasp something wooden, heavy, and long. "Come, come, darling. A little fillying, a little tolchocking is all, eh?"

I grab this wooden stake and swing it around as hard as I can like a baseball bat, hitting Billyboy square in the side of the head. He cries out loud and harsh, and I bolt towards the edge of the stage as fast as I can. But the other three thugs that are up there behind him are too quick for me. They're all grabbing at me, yanking at my limbs and tearing me across the stage.

I don't know what else to do besides scream Mick's name some more, feeling so helpless and scared. This has to be a dream. Please let this be a dream.

**For those of you who've seen the film or read the book (which I'm guessing is probably all of you!), I'll bet you can make an easy assumption as to what happens neeeeext, yes? ;) But I own't spoil anything! Sorry that Alex wasn't in this chappie as much, but he's gonna to be a freakin' super star in the next few chapters I have coming up! I'd love to hear your thoughts so far! Thanks so much to those of you who have already reviewed! I get so happy whenever I see them! - Plainsong30**


	4. How Art Thou?

I feel someone clobber me right across the face. It feels like my jaw just got pushed towards the back of my throat. They're holding my arms back and I'm dazed from the hit, but they force me to look up, and Billyboy is coming towards me, looking disgruntled as blood flows down the side of his face. I did that…

"Naughty naughty malenky ptitsa thou are, eh?" he snarls, his spit flying into my face. He grabs me by the chin and forces me to look at him. "I'll teach thou. Teach thou some real horroshow manners, I will. A nice malenky bit of the ole in-out in-out, we'll start off with, eh?"

I can feel tears rolling down my cheek as I try to understand what is happening, when suddenly a voice rings out in the theater like some angel from heaven.

"Welly welly welly well, if it isn't fat stinking Billygoat Billyboy in poison. You very well filly with what does not belong to thou, thou grahzny bratchny!" I look over to see four figures in white hidden among the darkness of the theater, slowly stepping forward into the light. "How art thou, thou globby bottle of cheap stinking chip-oil?" I suddenly feel the hands that were groping me earlier releasing me as I collapse onto the stage, my jaw aching something terrible. I leap off the stage down towards where the other thugs throw Mick aside. "Come and get one in the yarbles, if you have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly, thou!"

"What's this govoreet about what belongs to thou, little Alex?" Billyboy asks. Then after a short pause, Billyboy spits at the ground, pulls out a switchblade and cries out "Let's get 'em, boys!" as he and the rest of his friends charge off the stage towards Alex and his droogs, all this hooting and hollering and glass shattering as I untie the gag around Mick. He's got a gash on his cheekbone that's beginning to swell, and blood from the gash slowly runs down his face. He's almost unconscious, but I heave him to his feet and together we run out the way we came, leaving behind that frenzied fight, hearing chains and beatings echo throughout the theater, a scene that I so well recognize from the film.

Once we get out of the theater I open the passenger door of the Tracker and help Mick inside. He hasn't said a single word since we got out of there. Quickly I round the car and get into the driver's side, stick the key in the ignition and start her up.

Only it doesn't start. The only problem with my Tracker has finally caught up with me, and right now I hate it so much I just want to kick it till it breaks to pieces.

"No! Nonono!" is all I can say helplessly, throwing my head against the steering wheel and just about ready to bawl my eyes out like some self-pitying baby.

"Stop it," I hear Mick wheeze. "C'mon now, don't cry. Look at us, baby, we're fine. We're fine."

"Oh, God," is all I can say, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "Did you see what almost happened? It almost happened!

That was Billyboy, and he almost…" I nearly break out into tears as I stop myself from finishing. I hug myself and bite on my tongue. I can feel Mick wrap his arm around my shoulders comfortingly.

"We're fine now. We're fine," he says. "Don't worry, look at us, we're fine…"

"Yeah," I say. I wipe away a single tear and straighten myself out, fixing my hair and trying to reattach my ripped sweatshirt sleeve. "Goddamnit," is all I can say. "They ripped my fucking sweatshirt."

Mick watches me attempt to fix the sleeve. "Goddamn that Billyboy."

"Goddamn him!" I cry out. We both kind of look at each other, and somehow we both crack smiles and actually let out a few chuckles. I don't know how, but having Mick for a best friend honestly makes everything easier.

"The Goddamn car won't start," I say, chuckling some more.

"Goddamnit," Mick answers.

"Goddamn!" I sigh. I break out in a few more giggles and wipe my eyes, then turn back to Mick. "What are we gonna do, kid?"

He kind of shrugs his shoulders and stares off through the windshield. "I think I need, like, a fucking frozen steak to put on my face or something, man. It hurts like a bitch." He touches it and flinches from the tenderness. "I haven't gotten in a fight in years, man."

I stare at his battle wound, then look around the car and see his long-board still sitting beside him, tucked away in the front seat. "You've got your long-board with you," I say, an idea suddenly coming into my mind as that reminds me of something.

"Yeah. What about it?"

"I have mine too. Remember, that one you gave me for my birthday? It's in the trunk!"

"Not ah."

"Yeah!"

"Well…" he says. "What do you propose we do?"

"I propose we get on our long-boards and get out of here."

"And go where?"

I shrug my shoulders. "God, I don't know. I don't know. What are we doing here? How'd we even get here? Like honestly, this is the most bizarre situation I've ever been in in my entire life. Kid, we were just in one of the opening scenes of the movie! The lines were exactly the same! Did you hear that all? 'You eunuch jelly, thou!'" I cry the last bit in an attempted British accent. That makes Mick laugh. "I mean, right? That girl that burst out of the building earlier… she must've been the one that Billyboy and his gang were attacking in the film! It's like the film is happening… and we're right there!"

"Only you changed it," says Mick. "You were there instead of that girl."

"Yeah… that was kind of weird, wasn't it?"

"Do you think that means we can change other stuff?"

"I don't know… are we suppose to? I mean, I like the story the way it is," I say, unable to hide a smile. "What are we gonna do now, though? We gotta figure something out."

"I honestly think we'd be safer in the car," says Mick. "But I mean, if you wanna go out and long-board… I mean, it's, like… whatever makes your heart pitter-patter, I guess. I can't guarantee that we're gonna be safe out there, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna go get my long-board and we're gonna get out of here, okay?" I say.

Mick doesn't answer me as I get out of the car, but he follows and together we head towards the trunk. I open it up and grab my long-board, and it's when I slam the trunk closed that I realize that a figure I hadn't noticed before is leaning against the side of the car, watching the whole time.

"Evening my malenky droogies," says Alex, revealing himself from the darkness, swinging his cane about as he eyes Mick and I curiously. His other three droogs kind of stand in his shadow behind him, their arms folded and amused smiles on their faces. I kind of freeze where I stand, clutching my long-board underneath my arm. "Ookadeeted from thou drat quite like skorry, didn't thou?"

"Uh… ookadeeted, yes," Mick suddenly says. I look over at him, wondering if he knows what he's talking about. "Appy polly loggies… uh, Sofia and I were a, uh… malenky bit poogly by the like dratting from Billyboy, I'm embarrassed to… erm… skazat." Mick almost ends the sentence sounding as if he has asked a question instead of saying a statement. I'm almost laughing, just because it's quite odd to hear him attempt to speak Nadsat slang. At least, I think he did an okay job. I look over at Alex to see if he's convinced.

"Not to worry, my little brother," Alex says, this sudden fascinated smile appearing on his face. He gropes his cane as his blue eyes dance back and forth from Mick and I. "And you, my sladky devotchka," he says, turning to me. "I believe thanks are in order?"

I stand there for a little bit, frozen and silent. "Huh?" is all I can muster.

"Billyboy's fillying was most definitely not in thy favor, according to thou dratting back and nasty smots upon thy litso that I so like viddied earlier on, yes?"

My mind is at a blank for a second as I try to translate what he's saying… litso… filly… viddy… "Uh… why, no. Of course not. But from where I come from, no girl, or uh, devotchka would ever approve of such… uh, fillying without… erm, consensual agreement."

"Oh, come, come, my little Sofia," says Alex, kind of shaking his head, as if I'd gotten some kind of factual statement wrong.

"Such vesches and slovos cannot be included to make fillying what like fillying is." It takes me a moment to translate again, but once I've figured out what it is that he's saying, I find a leer coated on his lips, his eyes narrowing as he stares at me with this gaze that makes my blood run cold and all the hairs on my neck stand on end. It's the way he sort of cocks his head and gives off that piercing gaze that puts me edge, and at the same time, sends all these different emotions through me. I haven't forgotten who Alex DeLarge is, but at the same time, it's not hard for me to find him attractive.

"Where is it that you come from, my little sister, where such vesches such as consensual agreements are approved upon?"

I didn't know if it was already plain to see from my accent, but I figured I'd better just say it out loud. "Well… America."

All four of the droogs suddenly burst out into laughter, doubling over practically. "I salut you, my little sister," Alex says, a huge grin on his face, "for announcing thy nationality so patriotically like." I exchange a quick look with Mick, who looks just as confused.

"Why?" I ask, giving him an odd look.

"Oh, to govoreet of thy once like unwavering country would be the usage of such depressing slovos, my lovely. I spare thy ookos of such slovos. Besides, a native citizen, which I guess from thou zvook of thy yahzick, should be informed of such like vesches."

"Vesches?" I say, starting to get a tad bit annoyed. The way he talked made it sound as if America had gone down the toilet. "What vesches do you… hide to govoreet of?"

The four droogs all kind of look at each other funny, laughing some more as they avoid the subject all together. Had America gone downhill? Was there even an America? Though Anthony Burgess had never really brought up America… what exactly had happened to the US in the setting of _A Clockwork Orange_? What did that all mean for Mick and I? Were we really all alone in this alternate dimension, nowhere to go, no family, nothing…

"What's that vesche you've got there?" one of the others asks. I think it's Pete. He's pointing to the long-board I'm holding.

"It's my long-board," I say. "Mick's got one too." Mick holds his up proudly. "Do… you guys have long-boards?"

"A long-board?" Alex asks, a little sour. "I've never slooshied of a long-board." The rest of his droogs nod in agreement with him. "What's it do? You like filly with it?"

"Erm… transportation is the most useful way to go, I guess," I say.

"How do you use it?" Georgie asks.

"It's easy, man," Mick cuts in. He gently sets the long-board in front of himself, pushing it as he does, and then launches forward onto it, already cruising down the darkness of the street smoothly, soon becoming just a hooded silhouette.

For some reason all the droogs burst out into uproarious giggles. "Look at him go!" cries Dim.

"It's like… a skate-board. You've ridden those before, right?" I ask them.

Alex just kind of looks at the rest of his friends with a funny expression. "Right right right!" he cries.

I don't know what to make of it, so I set my long-board down too and take off behind Mick down the street, going faster as I push off more and more. I yank my hood on from the cold and attempt to bury myself deeper into the warmth of my sweatshirt.

Quickly I catch up to Mick, and as soon as I do, I can hear the pound of feet hitting the pavement, and I look back to see Alex and his droogs chasing after us, bird-calling and hooting and guffawing like the street gang they are. I'm not sure whether I should speed up or slow down for them, but they catch up either way, and as Pete, Georgie, and Dim all check out Mick's long-board, I'm surprised to find Alex by my side, stepping in my way so I can't push past him.

"Thou is quite skorry on thy long-board, eh?" he says as I stop in front of him. He's standing there, in-charge like, his arms crossed over his chest. It's weird to hear him say long-board. "I hope thou hasn't forgotten what thou owes to Uncle."

I kind of stand there on my long-board and look at him funny. "Uncle?"

"After all, it was thy humble droogie that saved thou, from that like dreadful fillying earlier, wasn't it?" he says, his breath enveloping into fog from the cold. His eyes are boring into mine, this smile curving his lips upward as he slowly takes a large step forward over my longboard, straddling it. His face is now mere inches away from mine, and I can make out each individual lash of the false eyelash on his right eye. "I believe that having saved your malenky plott calls for, shall we say, an agreement?"

I try to keep a straight face and withhold the fear that sort of grows inside of me, beginning to understand what it is that Alex is asking of me.

"What sort of agreement?" I ask.

"Welly welly well. If I must have to explain, I believe that the easiest way to like govoreet of such naughty slovos and vesches can be well put in the way you govoreeted about that like lovely agreement from earlier on, yes?"

My mouth is frozen shut for a moment. "What agreement again?"

"Oh, my lovely Sofia, sister, I believe you called it a… consensual agreement?" he says, enunciating the last two words in particular, a smug grin dotting his cheeks.

I keep my face straight as usual as I stare into those piercing blue eyes, watching the leer slowly curl onto his face, and realize what it is that he is suggesting. In a way, he had saved my skin back there with Billyboy and his gang, and I most definitely am grateful to have been saved. A terrible experience it would've been if Alex had not rescued me… if you can call it rescued.

But now I realize what it is that Alex wants. In a way, being rescued by him has not really "rescued" me, but has just set me up for an even thicker problem. And that is Alex DeLarge.

**Hi hi hi there! I realize I kind of made Sofia a tomboy-ish-long-boarding-type girl, but that's okay, right? I've always wanted a long-board... anyways, I'm actually not really sure where I was going with the whole America-gone-downhill thing, but I thought it might be interesting just to have the droogs hint that the once powerful America fell just like Rome had, or something like that. Because this is the future! You can do whatever you want. I think I also did it just to make Sofia and Mick feel more isolated... which is kind of mean of me I guess. Anyways, let me know what you think and if you like the path the story's going down so far! Thank you so much to those of you who have already reviewed! - Plainsong30**


	5. Consensual Agreements

"Doest thou think I govoreet a joke, when I skazatted earlier on to Billygoat Billyboy that thou belongs to me?" Alex says, coming even closer towards me, his voice very soft and clear, yet razor at the edge.

I don't know what else to do but stand there some more, staring back into those eyes, being haunted by his words whilst being immobile and choked up.

"What do you mean? Belong?" I ask him. "I'm not an object. I'm a person."

He lets out this soft chuckle as he cocks his head to the side, merry-like, and stares hard at me. "Oh, my little sister, such slovos I do not use to offend thou, but to express thou's relationship to me. Because thou does belong to Uncle, whether thou prefers it or not," he explains.

I don't know how to respond plainly or how to respond safely (especially when he keeps saying Uncle, it just throws me off), knowing that such a character as Alex DeLarge is not one who you can simply flip out on. If this were a normal guy from my normal hometown in real life, I'd slap him silly, giving him a piece of my mind and letting him know that I was indeed _not_ an object, and that I most certainly did not _belong_ to anyone.

But I wasn't dealing with a normal person. In fact, I was dealing with as bad as it gets. Alex fucking DeLarge. I ask myself if I should be flattered or terrified to realize that Alex is asking me for "consensual agreements."

"Can I just say something?" I ask him.

He merely nods. "You may."

"Where I come from, saving someone from said horrific tragedies would be a very noble thing indeed, and I would agree that the person who was saved would have a huge debt to the person who… saved them. But… what you're asking for me in return, because I 'owe' you, would not be any better than what Billyboy was trying to do to me back there," I say, kind of gulping afterwards. Maybe you can reason with Alex DeLarge. Maybe if you just talk to him like a normal person, it'll be okay. It's worth a try. "Does that make sense?"

"Doest thou govoreet of a refusal of our said agreement? Doest thou not wish to return thy favor for saving thou?" Alex asks through gritted teeth. I can see that crazy kind of look in his eyes that is similar from the film, and I'm so scared that I cannot believe the words that suddenly pour out of my mouth.

"Okay, yeah! Sure, whatever. No big deal."

_OhmyGod._ What have I done? What'd I just say?

"Oh, lovely, lovely! It's settled then," he says, placing a hand on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze, as if we were two friends who just set up a lunch date or something. I can feel my entire body stiffen as he does that, and I realize that he notices. "Come, come my lovely little sister. Do not fear Uncle. Droogies we have become, and droogies we will be." Another two-faced smile spreads across his cheeks as his hand slowly travels up my shoulder to the back of my neck, his grip becoming more firm as he pulls me a bit closer to him. My whole body is a stiff as a ragdoll, my eyes bugging out of my head. I wonder if I should scream for Mick.

"Thou fears Uncle, doest thou not?" he asks. His blue eyes are glowing, staring straight into my soul, my own eyes unable to tear away from that distinct, false eyelash.

"I'm not sure," I say. That's when I take control of my features for once, and decide to return a hard gaze back. "Should I be?"

Maybe that was the wrong move, because his response is not what I wanted to hear. "Much fun we will have, my little sister. That, thou can believe."

Then he releases me suddenly and turns towards the rest of the group, Mick just going on and on about his long-board and the little Jimi Hendrix figurine that's drawn on the bottom of it. I'm left standing there, watching as Alex continues talking to Mick like they're the best of friends, the rest of the gang having a good old laugh as Mick shows them a few tricks. When I gaze upon Mick just conversing with this fictional group, I squeeze my eyes shut, count to five, pinch myself, and open them again. Nothing's changed.

"Come on, man, try it," Mick says to Dim. Dim's looking excited but unsure, and he slowly steps up onto the long-board and pushes himself off cautiously. He kind of yelps out loud when he starts to move forward.

"Go Dim! You're off! Go go go!" Georgie and Pete hoot, running along beside him and giving him a good push down the street.

Mick, Alex, and I watch the trio practically skip down the block, Dim just this giant, clown-like figure trying to keep balance on Mick's long-board, his arms stretched out.

"What plans were on thy rassoodock for this lovely nochy?" Alex asks, turning towards Mick.

"My rassoodock?" Mick answers, pointing at himself. "Uh… I dunno, baby. Whatever happens, happens. Let the breeze take you away is what I say."

"Uh…" I mumble. "He's saying that we didn't have any plans." I think back to the way Alex said how drunk people disgusted him – but that was usually just drunk, old, homeless people, right? I wonder if a high kid like Mick would piss him off too, and this makes me a little bit nervous. Luckily, though, Alex seems to be having a good time with Mick. So far anyways.

"Doest thou wish to accompany us for a bit of the ole ultra-violence?" Alex asks, turning from Mick to me. "Lots of fun fillying my droogies and I will be up to."

"Uh… I mean…" Mick murmurs, locking eyes with me. "Uh… what would we be doing?"

I begin to chew on my lip as I look from Mick to Alex, trying to remember the turn of the events in _A Clockwork Orange_. If everything that took place in the film is really going to happen now, then that means…

"A ride in the ole automobile, if Sofia does not rassoodock?" Alex says, leaning on his cane and cocking his head towards me.

"Um… unfortunately, it's not starting. I think that last eighty-mile ride we were on just about killed it," I explain.

"Appy polly loggies. That is quite unfortunate," sighs Alex, as if defeated. I realize he's being sarcastic. "That doesn't have to stop us, O my brothers!"

That's when Alex suddenly whistles quite loudly and causes me to nearly jump out of my skin. Like a pack of obedient dogs, the rest of Alex's droogs suddenly turn back towards us (they were practically down the length of the block) and head back, Dim still attempting to ride Mick's long-board. Alex starts towards them as well, and not knowing what else to do, Mick and I follow. We meet the gang halfway, their silhouettes and fogs of breath now becoming clearer as they come closer.

"Sofia's lovely auto ceases to exist, my brothers. Another way we will find. The night is quite molodoy, is it not?" Alex says to the group.

"We viddied another auto just down the street. A bit malenky, but has a very high, cutter like smot about. A Durango 95 we viddied. Didn't we, lads?" Georgie explains. Pete and Dim nod in agreement. "Something that looks quite fun to yeckate."

I nearly feel my mouth drop open when I hear them say "Durango-95". The car? The exact same car as in the film and book?

"Why didn't you govoreet sooner, Georgieboy?" says Alex, starting his way down the street and taking the lead. "This auto I viddy here?" He's pointing at this stylish little car that looks like it's one of those attempted futuristic cars from a seventies sci-fic movie. Well… duh. "Lovely, lovely."

"Maybe we should just long-board," Mick says, realizing what's going on.

"Yeah. Car-jacking isn't really my style," I say.

"Come, come, Sofia, love! It's a Durango-95!" says Alex, twirling his cane over his shoulder as he continues towards the car. "Haven't thou any yarbles?"

It takes me a moment to remember what yarbles means. "Ha-ha. Very funny," I say with heavy sarcasm once I've figured it out, the others giggling to each other. Mick seems to be quite calm about the whole thing, and begins walking after Alex towards the car, and I've no choice but to follow. The rest of the gang is close behind us, surrounding us in a very controlling like manner.

It's a little convertible from the looks of it, and I haven't a clue how it's going to fit all of us. My stomach is doing flips and my palms begin to drench with sweat.

Alex takes his cane and jams it into the window. The glass shatters, and I look over my shoulder anxiously. Soon he unlocks the doors, and the rest of the boys all climb in and pull the retractable roof down. Mick and I attempt to squeeze into the little space that is left, and Georgie removes this thing from his keyring, a polyclef they keep calling it, and soon Alex has the car up and running, purring like a tiger. I have to sit on Mick's lap, which makes me feel a little bit better, but I'm right in the spotlight of Alex's eyes in his rearview mirror once again. There's this intense look in his gaze, a mixture of something evil and volatile. I cannot stare at them for too long without looking away.

If the scene in the movie was crazy (with that lovely false backdrop I recall), then being there for the real ride is nothing like I ever imagined. Sitting in Mick's lap is probably the most unsafe area of the car. I'm very likely to tumble right out if Alex turns too hard.

And he drives everywhere. Right into the oncoming lane, off the road, right for pedestrians, the whole works. My eyes are watering from the wind and my heart is roaring in my chest, a firm grip on Mick's shoulder. I can feel him returning the same gesture.

We are heading farther and farther out of town, and I realize where it is that we're going. It's that scene, that awful scene of stylized violence and soft-shoe and _Singin' in the Rain_ that makes me grab Mick by the arm and squeeze it so hard that my nails dig into him.

After the shit-your-pants car ride, we come upon a driveway with this very large, glowing sign that says HOME. The whole gang climbs out uproariously, shushing each other and giggling at the same time. I can see a house in the distance, the lights lit.

"Ready, lads?" says Alex, pulling what looks to be that long-nosed, masquerade mask that I always found frightening yet bizarrely sexy in the film. Now I was getting chills. This was really happening. Right now.

"I gotta go," I suddenly say.

"Go? Where doest thou have to itty to now?" Alex asks.

"I… I got a headache. A… uh, pain in the gulliver," I say as I start to slowly walk away backwards down the road, clutching my long-board. "Mick, you coming?"

"Tally ho!" Mick says calmly, starting towards me and leaving the group. "Sorry guys, it's been real, and it's been fun, but we gotta go."

"Ookadeeting on thy droogies?" says Alex, tsk-tsking us. "We've only arrived! The nochy is still molodoy, brothers! You'll be missing out on a real horrorshow event. Especially you, Sofia, love," he says. He's grinning at me. "Thou wouldn't want to miss what fun we'll have."

"I know. I'm just… so… bummed. But I gotta get some, uh… spatchka!" I say. I'm almost afraid to leave, just because I don't want to upset Alex in any way possible. From the look on his face, I can tell he's a bit irritated by me and Mick's ditching, but he doesn't seem too upset… at least, I don't think he is.

"Very well." His voice is a bit strained, and my question is answered as to whether or not he's angry. He sounds like it… a little bit. I simply cannot tell at times with him. "We'll meet again, though. Maybe for a pleet at the Korova tomorrow nochy?"

"You bet your sweet ass!" Mick hoots suddenly. I glare at him in the dark, wondering if he's lost his mind or something.

"Mick!" I growl in a whisper.

"You as well then, Sofia, love?" Alex asks.

I turn back to the foursome and force a smile onto my face. "Gahh… sure. Love to," is all I can say, feeling trapped.

"We'll be viddying thou then," says Alex, starting up the walkway of the little village house addressed HOME.

"Bye, lads!" Georgie and the rest of the boys say, waving as they all clutch their own masks in their hands.

I turn towards Mick and stare at him blankly, not knowing what to say. The two of us are silent as we start to long-board back the way we'd come, not knowing where to go, not really knowing where we are. I shrug deeper into my sweatshirt, nearly frozen from the cold of the night, wondering what the hell is going on.

"Let's go back to the car," says Mick after a while. "There's nowhere else for us to go. We'll just sleep there… or something."

"Do you have any cash on you?" I ask, nearly out of breath. We've been long-boarding for so long it seems already, attempting to find our way. Alex had taken so many turns and weaves, but things still look familiar, so I'm sure we're going the right way.

"No," Mick answers. "But even if I did, it wouldn't work. I'm sure they still take pounds in Britain, not American dollars."

I let out a huge sigh, a giant fog of my breath surrounding my face. "What are we gonna do? This is so weird! This is not normal!" I whine, pushing off more and more, wanting to go faster and try to find a way out of this mess. "I think I'm dreaming. I have to be a dreaming. This is all a result from my insomnia. You know, I honestly haven't slept in about five days. I just can't. And I think this is the result."

"Chill out, Sofia," says Mick. "Look, we're almost there."

The sterile buildings of the city begin to grow back as we get closer to town. My leg is burning and aching up something awful, my body completely frozen. It gets trickier once we get back into town – the streets look similar, especially in the dark, and after avoiding a few gangs and another few turns, we finally find my car. I had been worried about it, but it looks okay.

We climb into the car, roll up the windows, and lock the doors. We lean the seats back and stare up at the ceiling of the car, both of us speechless. Then a question forms into my mind that makes my stomach churn.

"Mick?"

"Yeah?"

"If we had gone with them tonight… do you think we could've… helped that couple?" I ask him. I think about the whole scene, the way Alex sings _Singin' in the Rain_ and completely taints the whole song. A brilliant scene, yet so shocking and discomforting – and it was happening right now, right as I lay here.

"I don't know," says Mick.

"Let's just… say that we did, okay? If we _did_ help that couple, wouldn't that change the course of the events in _A Clockwork Orange_? I mean… it wouldn't be _A Clockwork Orange_, would it? F. Alexander wouldn't lose his wife, and he wouldn't go crazy, or become a cripple like he does in the film, for that matter, and…" My mind is about ready to explode from just thinking about it, and I trail off.

Mick doesn't answer for a moment. "It's too late," says Mick. "It's already happened. We can't do anything about it now."

I chew on my lip as I lay there, continuing to think about it. I wonder if I'll be able to sleep tonight. I close my eyes and keep them closed, hoping for sleep, even though it never comes at any other time.

**Hey guys! I apologize if it's taken a while to update! Sorry if this chapter wasn't very interesting, but I promise you that there are some much more entertaining chapters to come! Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think! Also thanks to you that have been reviewing! It means a lot to me! - Plainsong30**


	6. Moloko-Plus

I kind of jump awake and forget where I am and what's happening. It takes me a few seconds to realize that I'm in my car, but _why_ am I in my car?

For some reason the windows are fogged up a bit, and I'm not sure why. It doesn't take me long when I turn towards Mick on my right side and see him smoking a joint.

"Jesus, what time is it?" I ask, pinching my nose from the fumes and using my other hand to wave the air. As I begin to wake up more, I realize it's not just foggy in the car, it's like a fucking steam bath.

"Don't know. Don't care," says Mick. He suddenly coughs violently, holding forward the rest of his blunt. "Ah, shit."

I rub my eyes and pull my hair out of its distorted bun, my scalp achy from the strain. I pull it all to the side and braid it effortlessly, the events of the previous night pouring back into my brain. Alex DeLarge…

That's when I quickly come back to earth and rub my window free of moisture, peeking outside, hoping that maybe we somehow arrived back home, that maybe the streets are familiar to me again.

They aren't. Those sterile looking buildings are still there, and for some bizarre reason, it's still dark outside.

"Wait, what time is it?" I ask again.

"Don't know," says Mick, very relaxed about the whole thing. "I think we slept through the whole day though."

"We slept through the whole fucking day?" I cry. "What?! Not ah, I'm an insomniac, I can't sleep for that long."

"Well, you did."

"But… I feel like… I didn't get any sleep at all," I say. It feels as if I had just jumped awake from a bizarre doze. I know I dreamt last night, but I cannot remember what.

I watch Mick as he continues to smoke his blunt, disgusted and at the same time fascinated for some odd reason. He puts it out in the ashtray and then claps his hands free of dust, looking over at me afterwards with these red, squinted eyes.

"How do I look?" he asks, giving off a crooked smile.

"You look _great_," I tell him, my voice heavy with sarcasm. "Now that you're so in touch with your mind right now, any idea as to what we should do next? Because what I really need right now is a guy who can _think_! Not some stoned hippie!"

"C'mon, Sofia, relax. It's not that big of a deal. I'm still in touch, I can still do things. It heightens my senses if anything. I'm fine. I'm fine…" he says, leaning back in his seat, his hands behind his head. "Besides… I'm not freaking out. In fact, I'm pretty hyped about this whole thing. We get to hang out with Alex DeLarge."

"Well, we had the opportunity to do that last night, and I didn't see you participating," I say.

"Well, yeah, ultra-violence isn't really my thing, but… you know what I think?" he says, sitting back up and staring at me with another lazy grin. "I think we need to enjoy our time here. Alex DeLarge has got to be… the coolest anti-hero you can think of. Him and Patrick Bateman. Or Tyler Durden. Or Scarface, actually. And guess what, baby? We get to hang out with the son of a bitch!"

I begin to glare at him, convinced that he has lost his mind. "Yes, I do believe Alex DeLarge is one of the most fascinating characters I've come across, but never did I ever say that I wanted to hang out with him. Knowing the type of person he is, that would be suicide!"

"Yeah, well, we hung with him last night, and it's not like we died or anything. And anyways… I swear you got a crush on the guy, because the last time we watched that movie together-"

"A crush?" I ask. "What crush?"

"Denial!" Mick roars.

"Shut up!" is all I can answer, my cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

"Besides, I think he likes us," says Mick.

"Likes us?" I repeat. "Yeah, maybe he likes us… or maybe he just wants to fucking rape me or something. Did you hear him going off about consensual agreements? An agreement to fuck? That's what he was saying."

"Well, at least he's asking for an agreement instead of just actually raping you," Mick answers. "I mean, if he really wanted to, he would've gone for it by now, right? Seems kind of odd, actually."

"Yeah, so why hasn't he?"

"Hell, I don't know. Like I said, I think he likes us," says Mick.

"Yeah, you just got it all figured out, don't you?" I say, my tone real bitchy. He doesn't answer me after that, and I cross my arms and stare at the steering wheel, really confused about this whole thing and trying to figure out how the hell we ended up in the story of _A Clockwork Orange_.

But then a sudden knocking breaks me out of my trance, and I jump out of my skin and wail out a loud "Gaah!" and grab Mick by the arm. Speak of the devil.

"Hi hi hi, my little droogies!" Alex pipes from the other side of the glass.

"Oh… my God. You scared the shit out of me," I say, rolling down the window. "How'd you find us?"

"It is not as if thou has like moved thy auto at all. Twas not hard to find you," Alex explains, a smile spreading on his lips, this look on his face indicating that I'm just plain stupid. "Come, come, brothers! Thou promised at pleet at the ole Korova, did thou not?"

"Hang on," I say. "I don't remember making any prom-"

"We're in!" says Mick, already opening his car door.

I let out a loud huff before getting out of the car myself. Georgie, Pete, and Dim are already with Alex, but they're standing quite a ways back, looking a little out of it, maybe a little frightened even.

"What's wrong with you guys?" I ask as Alex and Mick already start off.

"Don't worry about thy droogies! Just a bit of fillying from earlier hast worn thou out!" Alex answers.

I stare at the trio and notice how Dim clutches at his hand painfully, a bandage wrapped around it, the gauze stained a nasty brown color. He and Georgie look quite wet, as if they'd previously gone for a swim in their clothes.

My heart skips a beat as I realize that Alex had just beaten up his friends by the flatblock marina in order to show who was boss. That slow-motion scene by the water where Alex flips out on his droogs flashes before my eyes. I pity the three of them, and at the same time become even more scared. They look sullen and dispirited. I turn away from them quickly and start after Alex and Mick, trying to remember what else must've happened. The foursome had gone back to the Korova after attacking F. Alexander and his wife, and Alex freaked on Dim for making fun of the woman who'd been singing Beethoven, something that Dim would not easily forget. He'd gone home afterwards, and then the next day P. R. Deltoid swung by to tell him to get his act together. And after that… after that, he went to the record store and seduced those two girls, Marty and Sonietta, back to his bedroom for a "William Tell Overture" themed orgy. Although I remember a few differences from the book than from the film that causes me to feel a bit sick.

While stumbling after Mick and Alex, the other three close behind, my stomach suddenly rumbles so loudly that I'm afraid all of them can hear it. I'm so hungry that it's the only thing that's on my mind at the moment, and I ask out loud if the Korova will have any food.

"The Korova Milkbar sells moloko-plus, Sofia, love," says Alex, turning around and walking backwards as he converses with me. "But perhaps we can fetch you a kiddie meal at the local bistro, eh?"

"Um… that's all right," I say, listening to Alex snicker as he continues walking. Dim, Georgie, and Pete are all still a bit behind, murmuring to themselves and not being very social. I glance back at them every once and a while, then turn back to see how well Mick and Alex are conversing, like best friends it seems. Mick totally trusts Alex, a flaw which has haunted him for quite some time, and last happened when Mick's ex-girlfriend, Lorraine, had cheated on him.

I don't trust Alex. I'm pretty damn smart. Not that I'm saying Mick is stupid… I love Mick. But I guess he is kind of stupid…

"Sofia, I've got these if you're real hungry," says Mick, pulling out a baggie of what looks to be brownies from his pocket.

"Are those brownies?!" I cry, my stomach giving another kick as I see them in his hands.

"Yeah, buddy. You can have them if you want."

I don't protest as I take the brownies from him and begin munching on them on our walk to the Korova. Eating those brownies has to be the best thing about the whole night so far.

"What kind of moloko-plus would thou wish to try? Vellocet? Sythemesc? Drencrom?"

"Erm… I'll see when we get there. I'm not sure yet," I say, shoving the empty brownie baggie into my pocket. "Is it okay that I'm on a partially empty stomach? I don't wanna get sick or anything."

"Sick is the last thing thou will become. And thou best be thinking quite skorry. We've already arrived, love," says Alex, approaching a dark side street with a vacant looking doorway, two guards standing beside it. They don't card us or anything, which doesn't surprises me. I recall how Alex describes in the book that the employees don't really seem to bother with determining their age.

"Holy shit," Mick breathes beside me.

I'm frozen beside him as we enter the Korova, the place looking exactly as it had in the film. Those naked white statues with the colorful wigs were everywhere. Korova Milkbar and Moloko-Plus, all trippy like words, are decorated on the walls, and people in colorful costume like wigs and shiny clothing are sitting around, mingling and drinking their moloko-plus without a care in the world. At the same time, a few people do look up at the sight of us, but avoid eye contact all together. A group of young boys in this modern world is definitely something you didn't want to mess with.

"This is cray-cray, Sofia," Mick says to me, causing me to laugh, which surprises me, considering how dismayed of a mood I'd been in earlier.

And then something else happens that surprises me. As we're about to sit down, I suddenly feel a sudden rush through my body. It's not euphoria or anything like that, but I'm starting to feel a bit more relaxed and a little bit happier than I had before. In fact, I'm feeling really good as I actually walk around the legs of one of those naked white statues and take a seat right next to Your Humble Narrator and Friend, Bog love him, Alex DeLarge.

"What's up, cutie?" I ask, pinching his cheek as I sit beside him, putting my feet up on one of those naked statues like a foot rest. "I gotta get me some mo-lok-oh-PLUS!"

"My, my, Sofia, love. What's gotten into thou rassoodock to act with such like choodessny filliness, eh?"

Mick takes a seat on my other side, while Georgie, Dim, and Pete all sit in front of us on the other side of the naked white model statue with the purple wig on.

"Baby, you're rollin'," I hear Mick say next to me. I look over at him to see him laughing at me, one hand covering his face as if embarrassed. "I completely forgot about the brownies… I'm so sorry, Sofia…"

"What brownies?" I ask, staring at him, my expression confused.

"Vellocet, Sofia, love?" Alex suddenly asks beside me. I turn towards him, only to see him taking glasses of white, thick milk from a tray that a waiter is carrying.

"Tee," is all I can murmur, taking one of the glasses. "Muchos gracias, amigo. I need some, like, Oreos with this baby."

"Me too. I would like some moloko-plus vellocet," Mick says beside me. "You got any chocolate moloko?"

When I see that everyone has a glass in their hand, I kind of lean forward over that naked-statue-table-foot-rest-thing and hold my glass up into the air, because now I would like to make a toast. "I would like to make a toast!" I say. "This one's for you, little Alex. To lovely, lovely Ludwig van, a beautiful man."

"Indeed," says Mick beside me. Georgie, Dim, and Pete aren't really into it, but I do clang glasses very loudly with Mick, and together we chug nearly half the glass.

It's like pins and needles, kind of gritty and at the same time sweet, like milk. A modern age like today where even the innocence of milk is tainted with something as horrid as drugs.

"What's this govoreet of the lovely Ludwig van?" Alex asks me. I turn towards him, only to see this surprised, somewhat fascinated smile on his lips. "Thou has slooshied? Thou has slooshied the lovely zvooks of like beautiful Ludwig van?"

"Ninth symphony, right?" I say, my mouth just blubbering like crazy of all the things I'd read in _A Clockwork Orange_. "Fourth movement? Yes, yes, gorgeous piece. Real horroshow."

"Gorgeousity made flesh!" Mick hoots.

"You naughty malenky bratchnies!" Alex laughs. "When were thou vecks going to govoreet to me of such like musical interests? Surprise this is to me, my brothers."

"Surprise!" I exclaim. "Nah, I mean… I dunno. I've heard a few songs by Beethoven, he's pretty good, isn't he, Mick?"

"Yeah, he's pretty good."

"Yeah. But that and 'The Thieving Magpie' and 'I Wanna Marry a Lighthouse Keeper', fucking 'William Tell Overture'," I say. Now I was just pretty much naming all of the tracks right off the movie soundtrack, which I'm embarrassed to say, I've listened to one too many times.

"Oh, my brothers, such lovely slovos you like govoreet of music," Alex says. "I believe another pleet is in order!"

"Mick…" I whisper. "We don't have anything to pay with."

"Not to worry, brothers," interrupts Alex. "Your lovely droog has enough deng in thy carmans to assist."

"Well, shit. Thanks," says Mick sincerely.

I kind of look down sourly at my milk and finish the rest of it, my eyes squeezing shut as I shiver for a moment. Then I set the empty glass down (or try to) on that white-naked-statue-table-whatever-thing. As I do, my foot kind of shifts and bangs against the statue's face and right at her ear, causing the whole part of the ear to break right off. I kind of gasp out loud in shock as I watch the ear fall to the ground, then look over at Alex, only to see that he hasn't noticed. In fact, he seems to be in a much more serious conversation with Georgie, Pete, and Dim.

"Now we're back where we were, yes?" says Alex to the trio. I look over at him only to see this intense, controlling look twisted into his features. "Just like before and all forgotten, right?"

My eyes are going back and forth from the broken ear on the floor to the conversation taking place between Alex and his droogs. Mick kind of kicks the ear out of sight under the table, but I'm more determined to get it back to its place.

Slowly, very slowly, I slink down farther and farther out of my seat so that I can reach down and grab the ear.

"Well, Georgieboy, what did you have in mind?" I hear Alex ask, his voice so intense and chilling that I accidentally slip even further out of the booth we've sat in. I suddenly realize that this is an exact scene from the film and book. But I believe it took place in the Duke of New York, not here at the Korova, which was kind of bizarre… things were already changing. Was it because of me and Mick's presence, our involvement with the story? Though it hadn't been a big change, it was kind of odd.

"Not tonight. Not this nochy, please," says Georgie painfully.

"Come, come, Georgieboy! You're a big strong chelloveck, like us all. We're not little children, are we, Georgieboy? What, then, didst thou in thy mind _have_?"

I can hear Mick sputtering somewhat, and I look up at him only to see him laughing, his cell phone out as he snaps a picture of me, that little crunch noise going off at he takes the picture.

"Don't you dare!" is all I can cry, but I'm laughing too, and since my body's kind of underneath that naked statue, the naked statue starts to shake awkwardly because I've begun to laugh, and all I can hear are all these crunch noises from Mick's phone as he keeps taking more goddamn pictures. So quickly I grab for the ear and hold in laughter as I try to put it back onto the statue's head, the purple wig getting in the way, hoping to God that nobody has really noticed what I'm doing.

"Gold and silver and like jewels…" I overhear Georgieboy saying. "It was Will the English who like said."

"I viddy," I hear Alex say. "I viddy horrorshow."

I'm so focused on getting that ear back onto the statue's head that I finally realize I'm on my hands and knees. The wig's practically in my mouth as I just start smacking the ear onto the statue's head.

"Let us at once itty," Alex says.

"Itty!" cries Mick, causing me to bang my head against the statue.

I'm still focused on the ear when I feel Mick take my arm and pull me upwards. "C'mon, Sofia. We gotta go. They're ittying without us."

"I broke it," I murmur sadly. "I broke her ear off, I'm sorry!" My mind is starting to go nuts right about now. I blink and suddenly everything begins to come in clearer, sharper, more precise. The colors around me are glowing and my mind is in fast-forward.

"It's fine. We gotta book it though, they're leaving. Ookadeeting. To the cat lady's house, remember? Let's itty!"

And itty we did. Cat Lady, here we come.

**Hi hi hi there! Sorry about the long wait. I hope this chapter was somewhat funny - I tried to make it that way. Let me know what you guys think! Thanks to the feedback from all of you! - Plainsong30**


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